


So Well Off They Got A Second Home In Barbados

by dancinbutterfly



Series: Of Sharks And Men [5]
Category: Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: Commiseration, Drinking, F/F, Heartbreak, M/M, Not quite a breakup, Political Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24734719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinbutterfly/pseuds/dancinbutterfly
Summary: Harley Quinn is waiting for John in his flat. Nothing about that bodes well.
Relationships: (mentioned Harley/Ivy), (mentioned Ivy/Kite Man), John Constantine/King Shark, King Shark/John Constantine
Series: Of Sharks And Men [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742329
Comments: 21
Kudos: 177





	So Well Off They Got A Second Home In Barbados

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Season 2 of the Harley Quinn cartoon up through episode 2.10
> 
> title from Barbados by Lizzy Farrell

“I hereby call the inaugural meeting of the Useless Gays Whose True Loves Got Married To Somebody Else Club to order.” Harley Quinn declares from her spot, hanging upside-down on his couch, pigtails brushing his rather unsanitary carpet. “Any new business, besides the love of my life marrying motherfucking Kite Man?” She asks, waving a paper bag at him which, he assumes, has some sort of alcohol at him before taking a big gulp. It’s likely vodka if the way the streams that trickle down her cheeks towards her forehead don’t smell like anything so much as bloody rubbing alcohol is any indication. 

He does have an issue since the committee is hearing new business and all. “How did you get into my flat?” John asks, blinking at her. He has more wards up on this place than the BPRD and Jasper’s millhouse combined. She shouldn’t have made it in the door let alone up the lift without slamming into some really unpleasant and possibly lethal spells. Also, it’s in fucking London. There’s six-thousand miles of ocean between his flat and the nightmare mall in New Jersey where she’s supposed to be.

“I’m mutuals with Zatanna. I just DMed her a TikTok of me crying over Ivy in the bathtub with a different bottle of vodka. Not this one.” She nuzzled the paper bag. “This one’s new. Anyway. She sent me here because I said please and I cried a lot. She has no resilience against crying.” Harley’s eyes well up at that. “You gotta mean it though. Only works if you really mean it.”

John feels acutely like he’s drowning. Also, he’s going to block Zatanna on all his wards for this, the fucking mercenary. “Right.” He sputters, trying to spit out the awkward discomfort at all this naked, unashamed emotion right in his space like bad beer. “That’s terrible. But why me?”

“Because you feel my pain!” Harley wails, doing a twisting flip thing that requires the kind of core strength that John never had and never will have to hurl herself upright on the sofa. “You know what I’m going through and I am in desperate need of some reflective empathy right now. Unconditional positive regard. I need some peer goddamn support, Johnny, come on.” She looks up at him with big, sincere blue eyes and John reminds himself, sharply, that this woman is deadly and a member of the Legion of Doom and a clinicial psychiatrist who specialized in supervillains. She is dangerous. She is a threat. He needs to keep his guard up. 

“Okay. Gonna be straight with you, Quinn, I dunno what the fuck you’re on about.”

Harley tilts her head like a dog who’s just had a treat pulled away from her. She gives him an assessing look that makes his skin crawl then frowns at him. “With King Shark getting married to that shark princess, I just figured, ya know, you’d know how I feel about Ivy marrying Kite Man.”

Time scratches to a halt using his heart as a break with force so intense John can feel the impact behind his ribs as a physical blow. He actually grabs his chest. He doesn’t realize he’s doing it, but hey, look, there’s his hand, on his shirt, clutching the fabric, right over where his heart beats because it feels like those times he’s been stabbed. He even glances down just to check he hasn’t been stab and nope, no stab wound, just, agonizing pain and his body moving without his say so. Lovely. Bloody fucking wonderful. 

“Johnny?”

“Hm?”

“Did he… not tell you?” John can’t answer. For once in his miserable blabbermouth life he doesn’t have a cheeky comeback. He’s too hollowed out. Quinn must see it, the loss and betrayal, writ large across his face. “Shit. I’m sorry,” she says and she seems to mean it and, shrink, John reminds himself, she used to be a bloody shrink. She makes it easier on him by clowning on herself and saying “And I thought fucking me then doubling down on marrying that D-lister was a dick move,” a moment later. She softens then blow by holding out the bottle to him. “Rough break.”

John takes the vodka and drops onto the cushion beside her. He can’t get his hand off his chest. It’s like if he moves it, his heart will just fall out. He takes a long burning drink then gasps, “Fuck,” breathless and wounded.

“Yeah.”

He takes another chug but nah, everything feels exactly the same. “Fuck.”

“Agreed.”

“He got married.”

“Yeah. Her name’s Tabitha.”

“You must be joking. I went to primary school with two Tabithas in Liverpool. Shark princesses are not fucking named Tabitha.”

“This one was.”

“Fuck me. Did they even take the time register?”

“Ivy’s on theknot.com if you wanna get them a gift.”

“Like I could give a fuck about Dr. Iverson and that parasailing moron.”

“Right? He’s such a fucking moron and he’s so fucking nice. I hate that about him.”

“Never had the pleasure.”

“You’re not missing much, honest. Just a big kite attached to a bigger himbo.”

“Hear those himbos are all the rage.” He toasts her with the vodka and takes a slug the likes of which would’ve done the old man right proud. “Condolences.”

“Thanks. Gimme.”

He passes it back and takes a deep breath stealing himself but he has to know. He’s always been a cheap slag for forbidden knowledge that was guaranteed hurt him. “And Tabitha?”

“I haven’t met her but he’s got a standing Sunday night thing with her folks, ya know, in the sea. Shark royalty doing shark monarch stuff.”

“Ah.” And lo and behold, hurt it fucking does. Family dinners. How goddamn nice. He’s damaged so many nice things, nice people, he honestly never thought nice would gut him. Serves him, though don’t it? Justice from the cosmos from every bird he every left with a cold bed every lover he abandoned or let down. Shit. 

Probably for the best. John has never looked up shark life expectancies but King Shark’s shrank exponentially every minute they were together. It wasn’t safe, after all, with how John’s very special flavor of mortally toxic rubbed off on all of the people he’s ever-

Fuck. 

Fucking goddamn it.

John rubs his wet face and holds out a hand towards Harley and tries for friendly instead of shattered. “Pass that bottle back, would you, love? Ta.”

**Author's Note:**

> We knew they were exes. It had to happen somehow.


End file.
